


To love an elf

by Elexa



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prejudice about elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 22:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elexa/pseuds/Elexa
Summary: Thassarian considers elven stereotypes and prejudice about them and compared them to his favourite elf. Why should they, the undead Knights that they are, care about the ongoing war anyway?Besides, Mograin is just happy that all Knights get along and Siouxsie is too dead to want to deal with their love.





	To love an elf

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little silly thing, that wouldn’t get out of my head as I am levelling my void elf through ice crown and have to deal with a pinning Thassarian on an everyday level.

Elves, not so much nigh elves, but high elves and blood elves more so, are known to be vein. To seek perfection while holding everyone else to the same high standard that their kind has obtained. Some might call them prissy, however, Thassarian knows that they simply prefer to let others do the dirty work. Elves like cleanliness both in their surrounding as well in body hygiene, he scratched at his beard while looking out over the broken shore. Rumour says, that they have no other choice then shave with the little body hair they have. That, Thassarian knows, is true. Well, not the part that they have to shave, but the part with the little body hair. An elf could never have a full beard.

 

Looking back inside the dimly lit room he watched as a few wayward rays of light hit silver-blonde hair. Koltira had never complained about his body hair and for a second Thassarian considered the possibility of shaving.

 

Why the hair of a dead body kept growing he had no idea and he didn’t fell like asking their residing Lich. Amal’thazad would probably freeze him into a solid block of ice.

 

“Is everything alright, my heart?” ‘Tira’s voice, so soft while holding the resonance of death, brought him back. Smiling softly as he strode towards the bed on which Koltira sat. Byfrost leaned next to the door with Thassarians own swords. From outside he could hear the quiet clatter of bones and the rare moan from Lurid.

 

While Koltira didn’t mind having the skeleton around, but Thassarian still thought that there were times where his minion didn’t have to be at his side. This evening had been one of those. He could still feel the red welts that ‘Tira had left on his back. Remembering the question that he had been asked, he sat down, “Everything is alright, Love.”

 

It had taken him some getting used too to the endearments which ‘Tira gave more freely then he ever could. But he tried, for his beloved elf.

 

Koltira creased one of his long and elegant eyebrows at his answer. Funny that elves had close to no body hair but eyebrows two or three times the length of a human one. “I was just contemplating the manner of elves.”

 

‘Tira looked surprised before a devious grin stretched on his face. “A rather big word for a human like you, no? Did you spend time with Amal’ again?” Thassarian softly shoved him in answer, “Hey. For your information, my sister taught me how to use `contemplate´.”

 

Koltira playfully rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t talking about `contemplate´, I meant `elf´.”

 

“Why you little- “a loud moan from Lurid as well as a knock on the door alerted them to a person outside their door.

 

Within a blink of an eye ‘Tira had managed to find a shirt and a pair of trousers and only threw the blanket over Thassarian. “Come in?”

 

The door opened and revealed Siouxsie, who only wrinkled her nose as her gaze fell upon them. “Darion wants to meet all of us in ten minutes, he has word of the Deathlord regarding the future of the ebon blade. So, if you two could, please, put some clothes on.” Then she turned sharply and fled down the hall.

 

“This is unfortunate.” Koltira turned back towards him and pressed a short kiss to his lips. He tried to deepen it, but his trusty skeleton interrupted with a moan while it threw its head into the air only to catch it again.

 

“I know, Lurid. Don’t worry we will be along shortly.” With this ‘Tira turned away from him and went over to their armour. Thassarian sent one hateful stair at his skeleton before he got dressed too.

 

A few minutes later they both were fully geared and Thassarian just finished stripping his blades to his back as he watched Koltira put Byfrost on his back.

 

The first time he had seen the spectres that the blade seemed to hold had been frightening. It was true that every Death Knight had to fight their own demons but no other had a blade, that, in its hunger, projected a physical form for those demons. Thankfully it had gotten easier over the time ‘Tira had spent time back here with the other Death Knights.

 

Over the month Koltira had even returned to use more unholy then blood again. And while Byfrost was a vampiric blade that liked to drink blood it did help with unholy magic. Turned out that Koltira had some control over the spectres and could use them to reanimate more complex ghouls which then showed some tiny bit of intelligence.

 

They left the room together, closing and locking the door behind them. They hadn’t heard from the Deathlord in quite some time. He had been called away to that new Troll kingdom and hadn’t returned since. While Thassarian was exited to hear of their leader again he was also afraid of what orders he might give them. A gauntlet hand grasped his and he looked over at Koltira, but his elf only looked ahead.

 

They left the upper floors together yet, before they entered the middle floor and the training room Koltira pulled him to the side. “Promise me that, indifferent to what the Deathlord orders us to, the two of us will never again meet on a battlefield. Promise me that, please.”

 

It was moments like this that Thassarian truly regrets that he hadn’t been able to safe his lover sooner. “I promise, my love. I won’t let anything come between us.” In a desperate attempt to calm his love he pulled Koltira against him. Their heavy armour clashed as their lips meet in a short but deep kiss. “I love you Koltira Deathweaver and nothing in this or any other world will change that.” ‘Tira only gave him another kiss, took his hand again and lead him into the great room.

 

All inhabitants of Archerus stood around, every Death Knight and every other undead creature. Amal’thazad cooled down the tension in the room, literally.

 

Then Darion Mograin stepped up on a small assembly of boxes, his voice ringing over the assembled undead, “Dear fellow Death Knight, inhabitants of Archerus, we have finally received further orders from the Deathlord. He had ordered us, the Knights of the Ebon Blade, to remain neutral in the coming war. While some of you may choose to fight with your kin, this fight will end the second you enter our home. Anyone who defy this order will be cast out. That would be all.”

 

A murmur went through the mass, that this wasn’t worth being summoned, that Mograin should tell them something they didn’t know already. A tug on his arm pulled Thassarian away from the other Knights.

 

For a moment he admired Koltira walking ahead of him, admired the slight sway of his hips and his long hair. Catching up with him he saw the little smile on the elf’s lips and the happy glint in his eyes. And he finally registered Darion’s words. They wouldn’t have to fight each other again, never again.

 

For a moment he felt guilt over the many times to come where Lurid would have to wait outside of their door, but only for a moment. Because then they were already at their room again and he opened the door for his love, bowing to him as Koltira walked past him then quickly shut the door behind himself before Lurid could follow him inside.

 

Just as he had turned around to face the room a pair of slender hands pushed against his chest. His back met the hard wood of the door and he could hear Lurid grunt on the other side before Koltira’s lips stole from him the ability to think.

 

Restless hands undid leather armour as he began to push his lover backwards towards the general direction of their bed.

 

While Thassarian was the bigger and muscular one of the two his elf, with his slenderer form, still matched him in strength. He supposed it was another elf thing.

 

In the end, he didn’t really care what others thought about elves. Besides, his was dead anyway so he thinks that none of the typical elven stereotypes fit him anyway. Or he was just biased on the whole topic. Or both.

 

And should, someday, one of the adventurers ask him about Koltira, then he would just tell him that he has no idea how he had gotten so lucky to have his elf loves him just the way he is.

 

He wouldn’t mention to them all those times where he, while trimming his beard, had been surprised by slender hands taking the knife from him and cold lips kissing freshly shaved skin. Or those many days when he had mustered his beard doubtfully those same lips had whispered, “Keep it, I think it suits you. And I don’t mind it either.”

 

And the next time someone else would call elves prissy and vein Thassarian would think about all these days and night back in Andorhal, after they had defeated the burning Legion, when Koltira had waded through the sickest of plague-sludge just because one of them had thought they had seen one of Lurid bones sticking out of it. And when his trusty skeleton would groan in protest at those prejudice about elves than no one but him knows. And he, after all he had been through, simply didn’t care; not when there were cold lips and long hair, slender fingers and swaying hips waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, please comment if you did so or have any further ideas.


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